An Exploration of Sexuality

Last weekend, Rafe and I had three nights together – a rare treat. He had already decided that I would be spending most of the weekend naked and in service. When I arrived, he quickly instituted a new rule: Whenever I was naked, I must ask permission to put clothes on. Violation of this rule meant 10 cane strokes. (I’d already received 20 after my arrival, for failing to send appropriate pictures 2 mornings of the week.)

I was quite successful through the weekend. There was but one infraction – a technicality, really. I’d gone to change clothes. I was never really naked, only partially. But my master is not one for arguing the letter of the law, when it comes to our arrangement. It’s all about the spirit.

At one point, he said playfully, “I think we should make this a permanent rule.”

This weekend, I failed twice, before he reminded me. And then a third time. At least he had decided that the cane was perhaps too stringent a punishment for this new rule. He has not told me what the punishment will be regularly. But this weekend he administered a good old-fashioned spanking with the palm of his hand.

It seems my Master has found a tool suitable for leaving some marks. He instructed me to post this picture I sent him tonight, my breast dimpled with bruising after several swats with the silicone paddle this weekend.

Ella and I were talking last night about our D/s dynamic. We have an idiosyncratic arrangement. It’s a 24/7 lifestyle in that I am always dominant in our sex life, and I decide when we are playing. I can order her to do what I choose, when I choose, and she does it. As we say, she does what she’s told; I get what I want. That’s our agreement.

But in practice, we don’t do high protocol service slavery and I don’t take control of many things that neither of us are particularly interested in incorporating into our dynamic. Finances. Exercise. Work. Diet. These are things Ella is perfectly good at managing for herself, and I have no desire to manage for her. Frankly, she’s better at some of those than I am.

So we’ve carved out a style of dominance and submission that works for us. In discussing it last night, I realized that I have never punished her for disobedience. Ella has followed, or attempted to follow, every order I’ve ever given her. She doesn’t disobey in order to manipulate me. She doesn’t act the brat in order to try to top from the bottom, picking and choosing when she receives discipline. She’s truly into service and obedience.

It’s utterly refreshing. While I sometimes have to correct her service, in order to mold it to perfection, so that she serves me precisely as we both want her to, I never have to assert my dominance in order to “put her in her place”. She’s not defiant or oppositional. When she wants more severe discipline, instead of acting out in hopes that I correct her with a severe punishment, she simply asks for it.

Last week, she begged me: “I want you to gag me, and torture me, and use me for your pleasure.” And I did. Though now that I think about it, I think I forgot the gag. But I bound her arms behind her back, tied a very tight crotch rope, and then spent fifteen minutes spanking her with the crop, my belt, and a hairbrush. Then, I made her come with the hitachi. Then I repeated the process. Her ass remained sore for days. She wept and wriggled and cried as I punished her ass mercilessly.

And when I was satisfied, she served me with her mouth and her cunt, and made her master come in the manner he’s accustomed to.

After a difficult night of punishment and discipline, and service, Ella rests. It’s a little bit of a tragedy, but she simply doesn’t mark. The little lines on her ass are all that remain of her eight strokes…

This weekend, I had an intense, almost desperate need to be of service to my Master. Unfortunately I was far away from Rafe this weekend, just as I had been all last week and have continued to be this week. Of course, by no means, was I beyond the reach of my Dom.

As I described in my previous post, I asked Rafe how I could serve him. At the end of the exchange, he warned:

Careful what you ask for, slave! You might get it.

Saturday – Masturbate for two minutes without coming, with clothespins on my nipples and a finger up my ass. Twice, separated by an hour. And completion of the blog post before 10 pm.

Sunday – Leave a comment on another bdsm blog. Before leaving my apartment, masturbate again, same conditions as Saturday. Then in the afternoon, more masturbation – this time, the clothespins on my labia (I thought I might come at the first clamp), with permission to come after two minutes was up (thank you, Master!).

Monday – No panties today. At work, masturbate without coming for 90 seconds (this one came with a deadline). While at dinner with acquaintances, go to the restroom and insert a finger up my ass – no masturbating. At home, leave another comment on a blog.

Tuesday – Panties must be red (even this little command sent me tingling). He had another plan, but it wasn’t workable without access to a private bathroom (still don’t know what he had in mind for me).

Wednesday – Comment on two blogs while at work. Later in the evening, another order arrived: Put an ice cube in my pussy and let it melt there. This one almost got me into trouble, because I had no ice. I immediately filled a tray and put it in the freezer. Fortunately, I had enough time for the cubes to freeze at least half way. When I pushed one in, it suddenly become almost impossible not to come. I begged my Master to let me masturbate to climax. After a couple of minutes, he permitted it, telling me later, It is difficult to deny you when you beg. The orgasm was long and intense. It took me a minute to catch my breath.

Thursday – I was working from home. Late morning, a command: Strip naked and masturbate without coming for two minutes. After I was done, a follow up: Repeat every 90 minutes until 4 pm. A total of 4 times in 4.5 hours. My clit is a little tender now. And Rafe has decided “we” should do it one more time before bed.

So I’m getting what I asked for. Service to my Master. And the results?

I’ve been wet all week. I’m aching to be filled and fucked and tormented by my Master. I want desperately to be used by him, roughly and mercilessly. I want him to take all that he can, all that is his (which is all of me). I’m longing to delve more deeply into our bdsm experience than we have yet.

I see my darling Rafe tomorrow. Of course, as fate would have it, he can’t take me straight home to fuck me. We have plans. We will be side by side for hours before he takes me home to play.

I have already been given a rule for this weekend. Every time we enter the house, I am to ask if my Master would like me to suck his cock. Failure earns 10 strokes of the cane. I’ve already earned 8 – 5 for a delay in sending him pictures of myself in my running gear, 3 for improper capitalization of my last post (since fixed).

Time has slipped by. Rafe and I have, in turn, been traveling, sick, and stressed. During this time, understandably, our play has been a bit more subdued.

This weekend, we are apart, and I felt a longing for my master’s hand, his strictures, his orders.

How may this slave serve you from afar, sir? I texted him.

He asked what I proposed.

I replied, What would please my master? Masturbation? Some anal play? Nipple torture? What does my master fancy his slave doing to herself this week? What images would bring him pleasure and satisfaction?

He sent me the first of his plans – and my orders – for the week:

I have been thinking that I would like you to come twice this week. But I think we should build up to it.

Today I want you to masturbate for 2 minutes, without coming, twice. Separated by at least an hour.

You will not come today. We’ll repeat it tomorrow. If I’m satisfied, maybe tomorrow. If not, perhaps Monday.

Today, when you masturbate, do so with a finger up your ass and clothespins on your nipples. Both times. Send pictures.

Already I was wet with the anticipation of fulfilling my master’s orders. I did as I was told. The two minutes was an eternity. I felt on the verge of climax. But I knew to fight the desire to succumb, lest I be dealt my punishment for coming without permission.

I returned to my day as usual. A short nap. Some dinner. A bit of cleaning.

Then time for another session.

I had a little wine with my dinner, hoping that it might make the edge a bit more bearable. Again, I was already warming at the very thought of what I was about to do for my master.

With the placement of each clothespin on my nipples, I felt blood rush to my vulva and clitoris. I felt myself grow wetter. I sent my master the first picture.

I then applied lubricant to my anus. I coated a finger of my one hand, reached behind, and inserted into my rectum. I exhaled shakily, my desire intensifying.

I started the stopwatch on my phone and, kneeling on my bed, slipped my free hand between my legs. Engorged, slick, the first touch of my pussy felt like it might almost be enough to push me over the edge. The seconds ticked by. Slowly.

Thirty… I was dripping wet. Forty-five… Not even half way there. Sixty… Fingers dipping inside to move the stimulation away from my clit. Seventy-five… Would I be able to hold back? Ninety… So close. Fingers sliding effortlessly between my lips. I longed to come. I was desperate to come. But I also longed to meet my master’s demands.

Finally, the clock hit two minutes. I had made it.

As I removed my finger from ass, I feared that again that I might come. But I did not. I removed the clothespins. I collapsed onto the bed. Spent but electrified. Almost afraid that any move might be too much. A gentle rub of my previously pinned nipples sent another jolt to my cunt.

An hour later, I’m still dripping.

My master told me to expect assignments every day this week. I do not know what to expect. Perhaps more masturbation sessions with me struggling not to climax. Or perhaps orders to orgasm, maybe even more than once a day. I am certain that they will be challenging.

This weekend Ella and I cooked dinner together. She’s a bit better in the kitchen than I am, but I’m certainly no slouch. The cold weather called for a hearty meal, so I made a spicy turkey chili. And Ella was charged with making the cornbread from scratch to go along with it. Naturally, I had to make it a challenge for her.

Binding her hands made for an enjoyable baking session as she struggled to prepare the dish. I kept interrupting her, as well, ordering her to her knees to suck my cock while I worked on the chili, and making her lick the sliced stem of the jalapeño pepper. Eventually, I decided that even the wrist hobble was not enough, and decided she needed a more invasive impediment.

I gave her a few smart strokes with my palm to redden her cheeks, and eased our new string of silicone beads into her tight little ass. Unable to wait for dinner, while the cornbread baked I ate my little slave’s cunt while extracting and reintroducing the hard little beads into her ass. It wasn’t long before she begged me to fuck her. And when I did, she climaxed volcanically beneath me.

Dinner was excellent. And after, we reposed in the bath, master and slave, lovers.

Last week, I left Rafe’s arms with the usual longing to stay. My travel was uneventful, smoother than usual actually.

As always, I texted Rafe when I was home.

With his reply came a surprise. A new assignment while his slave was away. An order to have three orgasms each week until I see him again.

One of the rules that we have established is that I am never to come without my Master’s permission. As with my body, my orgasms belong to him. Typically I am forbidden from orgasm while we are apart. Often he will order me to masturbate – sometimes every day – for a minute or two without coming. The knowledge that I must not come makes the desire to do so more intense.

He did not explain why he decided to change the assignment this week. Only what I was to do.

Last night was my deadline for the first week. I still had one to go. I was exhausted. The toy collection at my place is sparse and without a single vibrator. But I knew a surefire, efficient way to get it done. I stripped, adjusted the water flow and temp on the tub faucet, and slid underneath it for my clit to be pulsed until I came.

It was strange. A forced orgasm. After two others in the week. Without my Master as witness. It felt indulgent. Filthy. Almost wrong.

Today was the start of week 2.

I considered what the point of the exercise might be. What it meant to me. Why I had felt a bit conflicted about last night’s orgasm. I realized that it made me feel like a slut.

And the truth is, I like being Rafe’s dirty little slut.

So this afternoon, with that in mind, I dried off from my shower and laid back in bed. I accepted his claim on my orgasms, by either denial or requirement. I accepted that I am aroused by my submission to him. And I fucked myself with the handle of the hairbrush that Rafe likes to use on me at times (for spanking and fucking).

And then, per my Master’s instructions, I sent him a picture with my gratitude. And my gratitude for this one was deep.

My Ella was indeed allowed to masturbate to orgasm. She was required to do so with a finger up her ass, and only after begging and offering up willing acceptance of various torments in order to receive permission. Already, for failure to send me a photograph on Saturday, she has earned ten cane strokes. Now she has purchased more severe session indeed.

This is not a punishment, of course. She did not climax without permission. But the result is the same. She begged me to use the sauce, in exchange for the right to masturbate. And I will. She is going to be bound, caned, and then I will apply hot sauce to her vulva. I warned her ahead of time, I only have very hot sauces at the moment. The habañero is the milder sauce.

And then, while her sweet little pussy burns, reminding her of the price of her satisfaction, she will suck me off, and swallow my ejaculate. To remind her that she is the vessel of my pleasure, and required to serve and suffer at my pleasure. Whether that is deprivation, or torment. I intend to make her tortures severe enough that she thinks carefully before requesting a rogue orgasm again.

Her pleasure, like her body, belongs to me. I own it. I own her. And I intend to make her swoon with agony and submission.

Especially when your little slut so desperately needs to come. To submit to my master and be teased and fucked until an explosion of ecstasy breaks my mind, leaving me spent and silent.

I took this weekend to attend to things in my home. And now, sir, I need to attend to one more. I humbly request your permission for an orgasm in your absence, sir.

This is a rare request. And rarely are these granted without conditions.

Perhaps my master would exchange this orgasm for the punishment of his slave when she comes without his permission…

Perhaps my master would permit his slut to masturbate on his terms. His selection of what she is to use to bring herself to climax. Or maybe some humiliation she should endure while her pleasures herself.